


Make Me Ours

by salineshots



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, POV Multiple, Post Season 7, Soulmates, and some good old fashioned violence later, how about some fluffy sheith and some sad lance, how about some shared pain, you know i love these three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-09-07 12:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salineshots/pseuds/salineshots
Summary: Keith and Shiro were obvious soulmates.In all likelihood, Lance didn’t have a soulmate at all. Roughly half the population didn’t, or never found them. It was hard to know who your soulmate was when you had to fall in love with them first.





	1. Dream

_Three months, a week, and a day._

_That was how long ago Shiro had gone missing. Keith didn’t write the daily count down anymore; the instructors had already taken away his notebook once. It didn’t matter. He counted it in his head like a curse, and it occupied his thoughts the way the day’s lesson was supposed to._

_ He didn’t even know what it was about. He couldn’t focus his eyes on the board. He had felt sick since the news, constantly achy and weak, but he felt worse than usual that day. _

_ Keith really was trying. The Garrison was where he wanted to be. Shiro would have wanted him to focus and keep studying, so Keith tried. More than that, the Garrison was the only place with the resources to plan a rescue mission to Kerberos. Keith still had to convince them. _

_ But he hated everyone there. They had just moved on. It didn't even seem like anyone else was grieving. _

_ Adam--Professor Westbrooke--had shut down. He hadn't smiled for months, but he'd had nothing to say about the Kerberos mission. Keith stared holes into him as he continued the lecture at the board. Adam was probably grieving in his own way, but it wasn't enough for Keith. He wanted just one other person to be as miserable as he was. _

_ But Shiro wasn't Adam's soulmate. He couldn't have understood. _

_ Adam couldn't know the hole it left in Keith, how he missed feeling Shiro's pain as a way of feeling close to him. Of course he never wanted Shiro to be hurt, but it had felt like Keith's own way of supporting him. Whenever he'd bruised himself in training, or whenever his illness had given him muscle pain and weakness, Keith had silently shared that with him. Shiro hadn't known, and it couldn't have made him feel any less alone, but Keith had been there, bearing it with him. _

_ Now he couldn't feel him at all. _

_ Soulmates didn't feel _ every _ pain the other experienced, but the silence was tearing Keith apart. _

_ Maybe he really was dead. _

_ Keith's right bicep cramped. _

_ He sat up straight, back rigid, and gasped. It was loud and sudden enough to get him glances from his classmates. He heard Professor Westbrooke say something, sounding concerned, but he couldn't make out the words. His arm had gone hot and his head went fuzzy. _

_ He couldn't feel his hand. _

_ But his upper arm, he felt that. It burned like fire, like knives, like blood. _

_ Keith screamed. Hot tears poured out of him faster than he could hold them back. Through heaving breaths, he tore his uniform open and pulled his arm out of the sleeve to make sure it was still there. _

_ Not here. Not now. God, not to Shiro. _

_ "Kogane, what's wrong?" Was that Adam? Who was touching his back? Keith was still screaming, curling his body around his numb arm and searing bicep. "Keith, talk to me." _

_ "It hurts," Keith cried, hysterical. "It hurts. He's alive. He's alive!" _

_ Keith was still crying, smothering his arm, knees curled up to his chest at his desk. The classroom was silent but for his weeping, and his arm was falling off, and he couldn't breathe. Suddenly he was crying in relief. Shiro was alive. _

_ "You," Adam said to another student. "Help Kogane to the infirmary. He's excused from class today." _

_ "Shiro's alive." Keith had to say it again. He had to make them understand. He raised his head and looked at Adam's tightly controlled face. "He's alive, he's in pain. Please, Adam--" _

_ "Professor," Adam corrected him sharply. "When you're done at the infirmary, Kogane, go back to the grief counselor. You need to come to terms with this. Go." _

_ Adam thought he was crazy. Keith stared up at him, then at his classmates' stricken faces. They all thought he was crazy. Phantom pains from an imagined soulbond to a dead man. _

_ "C'mon, man," the student assigned to escorting him said. Keith didn't look at him as he took his good arm and guided him out of his chair. _

_ He stumbled most of the way to the infirmary. He refused to lean on the boy beside him, and he refused to talk. He just cradled his arm and weakly flexed his fingers to try and regain feeling in them. It came back in pins and needles. When they reached the med bay, Keith refused to go in right away. He sat on the bench outside the doors. The boy sat next to him. _

_ "Hey," the boy said, gentler than Keith cared to hear. This kid wasn't usually gentle. He tended to be loud and impetuous and combative toward Keith, for some reason. He had cried at the assembly when the Garrison told them the news. Everyone had cried, but this kid had sobbed. "I know we don't always get along, but if you need to talk to someone--" _

_ "Leave me alone," Keith said coldly. "You don't believe me, either. Just go back to class." _

_ The boy was silent. He dared to touch Keith's left shoulder for a moment. _

_ "Alright, Keith. But whenever you wanna talk… I loved him, too. We all did." _

_ Keith choked on his voice. He hid his face in his knees and shook. _

_ "Just leave me alone," he begged, so the boy did. _

Lance remembered that.

He remembered it as himself--the first time he had really tried to reach out to Keith--and now he had dreamed the memory _ as _ Keith. It was there, distinct and horribly clear, and he woke from it with a sickness in his stomach. He sat up in his Garrison hospital bed and took the water on his nightstand, hands shaking as he sipped on it.

Dreams like this were one of those rare soulsigns. It wasn’t unheard of to dream of your soulmate with inordinate clarity, or even to share a dream with them, but to share _ memories_?

But dreams could be of anything. Besides, Lance had _ been there_. He had witnessed that event. It was just his own memory replayed from a different perspective. It wasn't remotely a stretch to call it coincidence. One upsetting dream meant nothing.

Neither did the past year of random, unfounded aches and pains.

Lance was psyching himself out after a stress dream. He was so lonely and desperate that he was looking for signs where there weren't any. He might have been a hopeless romantic, and he might have spent his whole life dreaming about the cinematic moment that he would meet his soulmate, but now he was a soldier, and not even the best one. He wished the disillusionment would hurry up and solidify itself in his mind, because he had a job to do. If he was going to start having signs for someone, it wasn't going to be someone as important as Keith.

Besides, Keith and Shiro were obvious soulmates.

In all likelihood, Lance didn’t have a soulmate. Roughly half the population didn’t, or never found them. It was hard to know who your soulmate was when you had to fall in love with them first.

There were flowers on Keith's bedside table.

His mom had told him that after the battle, Black had crashed on the Garrison launchpad. Keith had taken days to wake up, and while the other paladins were already on their feet, Keith was on doctor's orders to stay in bed for another day. His head didn't hurt so badly when he woke that time, but there hadn't been flowers there before. He gazed and counted them while he gathered the energy he would need to get up again.

Twelve. Keith had never received flowers before, let alone a dozen red roses.

He took his time. He blinked slowly at the roses, and then his eyes moved past them to the man sitting beside his bed.

Shiro had visited him earlier too, but his mother and Kolivan had also been in the room. The two of them were alone this time, and the whole room felt quieter and a little more patient because of it. Keith breathed easiest when he was alone with Shiro.

Shiro didn't speak at first. He waited until Keith offered up a croaking, "Hey," and then he gave him the gentlest smile. His face was already handsome enough, but with that smile and the clean light from the window behind him, he glowed.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Keith said easily. "Are you okay?" Shiro had been hurt in the fight, too, and he had kept hurting throughout it. Keith had felt it and known that Shiro had still been pushing himself. He couldn't feel any pain from Shiro right then, but it didn't mean he wasn't missing something.

"I'm fine," Shiro replied. He set his hand on the edge of the bed, and when Keith reached for him with his weak, uncoordinated fingers, Shiro took his hand and cupped it in both of his. "I'm completely fine, but you're not."

That was obvious, but Keith didn't want Shiro to worry about it. He shook his head.

“I’m alright. I’ll be alright,” he assured him.

Shiro was still wearing that beautiful smile. His eyes softened further until he looked almost weary.

"When are we going to say it, Keith?" he asked quietly.

Keith’s throat caught.

Shiro had looked at him like that before, but neither of them had said it. They had never dared to broach this topic. Keith knew exactly what he meant, but couldn’t believe it.

"What?" Keith breathed.

"When you crashed,” Shiro said, speaking softly and deliberately, “I felt it. I was so scared for you. Everything hurt.” Shiro seemed to run out of confidence, but not bravery, and came to a halt. He gathered himself and murmured, “It would have hurt even if we weren’t…”

Keith couldn’t do anything but stare. His eyes stung. He gripped Shiro’s hand weakly.

"During your trials at the Marmora base,” Shiro continued, “it happened again. It was agony. But before that, when we were stranded on that planet after our first fight with Zarkon, and you rescued me, everything stopped hurting when you looked at me. I think that was when I knew."

Shiro had figured it out.

Shiro felt the same way.

Keith would have been fine if Shiro hadn’t. He had known for years that Shiro was the love of his life, but he hadn’t dared to hope that he was Shiro’s. Shiro was still watching him, searching his eyes and holding his hand.

“Keith, you’re my soulmate.” He finally said it, just a whisper. “Am I yours?”

“_Yes_.” Finally. Finally, it was out, and Shiro was smiling about it, almost as close to tears as Keith was. He struggled to sit up, but Shiro stopped him short and leaned over him. He let go of Keith’s hand to cup his face instead. Keith started to say his name, and Shiro caught it on his lips.

Their first kiss was gentle. Despite inexperience, Keith could have handled more, but Shiro treated him with care. His thumb brushed over Keith’s cheekbone, and under the warm pressure of Shiro’s mouth, Keith felt precious. He felt safe. He raised the arm that wasn’t attached to IV fluids and put it around Shiro’s shoulder.

Then Shiro had the audacity to whisper, “I love you, Keith.”

What peculiar words. Keith had spent years dreaming about those words in Shiro’s voice, and he hadn’t been prepared to hear them.

He began to cry. Shiro hushed him softly and kissed his forehead. 

“I love you.” Keith needed to say that. “I’ve always loved you.”

Shiro murmured and soothed him, kissing his face until Keith buried himself in his shoulder. He clung to him and took a deep breath: clean laundry, aftershave, and the warm, unique scent of Shiro's skin. His smell was always comforting.

"How long have you known?" Shiro asked.

"Before you left for Kerberos."

"Oh, Keith." Shiro held him closer. Keith sat up properly and just tried not to melt when Shiro stroked his hair. "Keith, I'm so sorry. How much did you…?"

"It's alright," Keith hurried to say. He didn't want Shiro to worry about the pain Keith had shared with him. He didn't want him to relive the days of his captivity. "It's alright. It's how I knew you were alive. When you were-- When Black had you, too, I could still feel you."

"I felt you, too," Shiro whispered. "You were always with me."

Keith smiled and curled his fingers into the back of Shiro's shirt.

"I always will be."


	2. Pinch

Somehow, in the middle of relief efforts, Earth's first bouts of extraterrestrial diplomacy, and an incomprehensibly massive and ongoing war, Shiro had one of the most peaceful days of his life.

He helped Keith out of bed when he was ready, and they walked together. They found their way into the courtyard for some sunshine and so that Keith could stretch his legs. They hardly even talked. It was just comforting to be in each other’s presence, away from the war for however brief a time, and though there would be a million things to say, it was nice to simply, silently take in the moment of togetherness and unity. Though Keith wouldn't swoon and lean on him like a wilting flower, he seemed determined to hold onto Shiro's hand as long as he was given the option. Shiro wouldn't dream of stopping him.

They were still holding hands when they walked into a small dining room in the Garrison for lunch with the team, and that must have been what told everyone that something was different--that, or the fact that neither of them had blinked away the lovestruck puppy eyes yet.

“Hey, you two!” Hunk said with a bright smile. Lunch that day was sandwiches, something easy that Hunk still found a way to spice up and make gourmet. Everyone was back in their own clothes rather than hospital gowns. Shiro had visited each of them after the crash, and his relief and gratitude to have each of them sitting at the table was a warm weight in his chest. Hunk's eyes landed on Shiro's hand linked with Keith's, and he stopped. Lance, Pidge, Allura, and Coran had much the same reaction, sitting and staring, frozen. “Is it,” Hunk hazarded, “you _ two_?”

Pride swelled in Shiro’s chest. He was with Keith, and everyone was going to know it. He replied with a smile, and then he turned and kissed Keith’s temple.

While half the table erupted in coos and congratulations, Keith _ giggled_. Shiro had never heard him make a sound like that before, like a giddy bride, but he sounded as happy as Shiro was. Keith squeezed their interwoven fingers and brought them up to kiss Shiro’s hand.

“You know, I had a feeling," Hunk laughed. “I'm so happy for you. Sit, happy couple.” They were delighted to oblige, and they sat close together on the bench at the table. “So, details? We need to celebrate.”

Shiro didn’t want to overshare what Keith might want to keep private, so he glanced down to him with an arched eyebrow. It was up to him. Keith smiled back up at him, understanding.

“We’re soulmates,” Keith replied softly, still gazing at Shiro. Those words sent goosebumps up Shiro’s skin. “That’s that.”

“Of course you are!” Allura was just as delighted as Hunk. She clasped her hands together and beamed at them over the table. “You know, Altean alchemists were known to be able to sense soulbonds. I’m still learning that level of quintessence sympathy, but I _ knew _there was something between you two, even without it.”

Everyone was so excited for them. Shiro didn't care if his bashful happiness showed on his face. Looking across the table, Shiro’s eyes found Lance and stuck on him. Lance was just sitting and staring at the table, expressionless while everyone else talked.

“How’d you finally figure it out?” Pidge asked over a mouthful of chips, and Shiro turned his attention to her. “You guys are in pain, like, all the time.”

“We just knew,” Keith said, because it really was that simple to him. "We've known for a while."

“What were your signs?” Hunk asked, incorrigibly excited.

“The pain, mostly,” Shiro answered that time. It was the usual gushing that came after a soulmate announcement, like showing off an engagement ring, and he was happy to indulge them. “But other times, I could… I don’t know. I just felt him around.”

“I think we shared a few dreams, too,” Keith said, and Shiro’s heart skipped. He looked back to him with a grin.

“You remember those, too?”

Keith responded with the same wide grin. He held his hand tighter and sat up straighter, and it was worth all of the waiting and the pain to see Keith this excited.

“Yes! The one with the cliff?”

“I remember a lot at the cliff, Keith,” Shiro replied softly.

“Those were all you?” Keith’s voice fell tender. Just in time, he seemed to remember that they had an audience, so he cleared his throat and struggled to temper his enthusiasm.

“You two,” Hunk said solemnly, “are so sweet.”

He was right, so Shiro didn’t deny it. He smiled and kissed the top of Keith’s head, shamelessly affectionate. They had earned it.

“You know, you have to do the pinching thing,” Pidge said. She gestured with a chip to give the statement finality. “It’s like, tradition.”

“Humans do that too?” Allura smiled and arched an eyebrow. “I’ve always thought it was odd. It’s more for our amusement than theirs. They already know who their soulmates are. And not every sensation of pain is transferred, so it seldom actually works.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun,” Hunk laughed. “It’s like, a thing when soulmates get together. Someone’s gotta pinch one of them.”

Keith bristled at the idea and frowned. “No one’s pinching Shiro,” he growled, as if he were warding off real danger.

Shiro laughed. He took Keith’s hand and set it on the table with his own, and he waited until Keith’s eyes met his. He smiled, and Keith smiled back.

“Want me to do it?” Shiro asked.

“Sure,” Keith relented with a low laugh.

Shiro pinched himself on the wrist. Keith jumped and sucked in a breath.

He wasn’t the only one.

Across the table, one of the benches scraped on the tile. Lance had bolted to his feet, and he had both hands gripping the edge of the table. Everyone stopped, unable to pay attention to anything else.

Lance had his lips bitten together in a line. His round eyes locked with Shiro’s, then with Keith’s.

“Lance, are you okay?” Shiro asked, concerned. Lance had always been excitable, but that was strange. He looked frazzled.

“I’m…” Lance worked his mouth over words that didn’t happen. He abruptly released the table and stepped away from the bench.

“I have to pee,” Lance declared too loudly.

“Well, don’t announce it like a middle schooler,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes. “Just go.”

Lance tripped against the leg of the table in his hurry to leave, stumbled and caught himself, and fled the room. Everyone chewed on that for a moment.

“Huh,” Hunk said simply, and he looked back to Shiro and Keith. “I’ve… Yeah, I’ve never seen him do that.”

“Is he okay?” Keith asked, frowning. 

“Well, you know, he’s a romantic. A lot of people get jealous if they haven’t found their own soulmate yet.” Hunk shrugged and commenced cutting the sandwiches for presentation. “I dunno. Don’t quote me on that. Maybe he just needs to pee.”

The word ‘jealous’ was a distinct one. Shiro rubbed his thumb over Keith’s knuckles and studied Lance’s empty spot at the table. 

He had wondered before if Lance harbored a little crush on Keith. The two of them worked well together, and after all the arguing and bluster, the two had a good energy between them. It was obvious that Lance admired Keith, but Keith seemed to be the only person who didn’t know it, and Lance seemed to be the only person who thought he was good at hiding it.

Shiro couldn’t even bring himself to be jealous over Keith. He wasn't that insecure. Besides, who _ wouldn’t _like Keith? That part wasn’t Lance’s fault, if it was true, but it would have made this news hard for him.

No amount of cold water on his face was going to make Lance feel better. He blew out a deep, gusting sigh and worked to pull himself together behind the locked bathroom door.

Having multiple soulmates wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t expected, but far from impossible.

And soulbonds were almost always reciprocal, but there were rare cases.

_ Two _ unreciprocated soulbonds was unfathomable. Lance couldn't have drawn that many short straws. He was missing something. He had imagined the sharp pinch on his wrist. He had been watching for it, so of course he had imagined what it felt like, just out of sheer empathy.

Besides, experiencing soulsigns would mean that he loved them.

Lance gave up on splashing water on his face. He shut the sink faucet off, slumped against the wall, and sank down to the bathroom floor. He held his face in his hands, and the tears spilling from his eyes smeared over his cheeks.

He had been so careful not to let his stupid crushes go anywhere, because he had always known that Keith and Shiro were meant for each other. The moment he had seen Shiro's arm that night outside the Garrison and recalled Keith's outburst in class a year before that, he had put the pieces together.

And Shiro and Keith had finally figured it out. They were a complete unit together and didn't need anyone else, and Lance was happy for them. He was so happy for them that he skipped lunch altogether.

As weird as Lance’s reaction had been, Keith enjoyed lunch with the team. Their enthusiasm and support was heartwarming. After everything they had been through just to get Shiro back, after all of the times Keith had nearly lost him, he was there with him. They belonged to each other.

Keith couldn’t stop staring at him, like he couldn’t believe Shiro was real. He had known this man for so long. He knew all the adorable nerdy stuff he liked, like building model spaceships. He knew his quirks, down to his handwriting with the weird Zs. He shared his hunger for freedom, his need for motion and action, and his appreciation for the quiet moments in life. He had known him years ago as his dearest friend, the two of them working on their own assignments in the Garrison library, and he had known him on the battlefield as they fought for their lives and each other’s. That love had evolved, and it had grown brave and fierce.

And now they were okay. They had this calm point in time to share with each other before the next storm. And this time, when they stepped out of the dining room and into the empty hallway, and Shiro turned his warm, dark eyes to him and smiled, Keith was allowed to just gaze back at him and enjoy how unbearably beautiful he was. Shiro’s smiles were just a little crooked. Keith now knew what it was like to kiss that mouth.

“What’s on your mind?” Shiro asked, already sounding amused.

“You’re beautiful,” was Keith’s shallow, immediate answer, and as insufficient as it felt to say, it made Shiro laugh. He softened his voice and leaned his face closer to Keith’s.

“You’re handsome,” Shiro replied, like it was true. Shiro didn’t lie, so Keith had to try and believe him. Shiro thought he was _ handsome_.

It put butterflies in Keith’s stomach. They rose to his cheeks and made him giggle again. He felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop making that stupid sound. He’d never had any call to be this flustered before. The best part was that it made Shiro smile even wider, and it earned Keith a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re so cute,” Shiro whispered.

He made Keith brave. He made him reckless. Keith gathered his confidence, lifted his hand, and took Shiro gently by the chin.

The look on Shiro’s face was priceless. It was like no one had ever given him that simple gesture before. His eyes lit up, surprised and interested, and his lips parted.

Perfect. Keith kissed him.

He was allowed to do that now.

Shiro relaxed into him. His hand found its way into Keith’s hair, and his body leaned just slightly closer, inviting Keith to wrap him in his arms.

Who knew that _ Keith _ could make _ Shiro _melt?

Just as soon as Keith pressed closer to him, kissing him in earnest, Shiro let out a small, distressed groan and pulled back.

“Hallway,” he mumbled. “Not in the hallway.”

Oh, to hell with everyone else. Keith had waited this long. They could deal with catching a glimpse or two of the captain of the Atlas and the paladin of the Black Lion enjoying their newly revealed soulmates. Keith grumbled a complaint and nuzzled Shiro’s jaw, but he had set a boundary and Keith wouldn’t cross it.

Still, Shiro’s stipulation left something to be examined: if not in the hallway, then where?

Somewhere they could be alone. A bedroom. The captain’s quarters in the Atlas, maybe.

It was incredible how in the past few hours, Keith had been too enamored with holding Shiro’s hand to remember everything else they might choose to do in such a place. Keith’s fantasies could actually happen. There was a chance that they were in his near future. His heart began to race.

Shiro, without the uniform. Shiro, strong and solid while Keith exerted his love on him. Shiro, out of breath and enervated with contentment. They would be so gentle together. Keith would hold him afterward and tell him he loved him, and Shiro would fall asleep, safe in his arms.

His fantasies tended to get ahead of him. Keith must have turned red to his ears, because Shiro’s hand felt cool where he cupped his overheated cheek.

“Keith,” he murmured seriously, as if he’d read his mind. “I don’t want to rush this. We can take our time. You have me for the rest of our lives, okay?”

“Are you sure I can’t kiss you in the hall?” Keith asked weakly. He couldn’t help it with Shiro looking at him like that.

Shiro laughed under his breath and relented. He leaned in for one more soft, brief kiss, and then simply let their foreheads rest together.

“There’s no rush,” Shiro reminded him. “Let’s just enjoy our day. Do you want to go tell your mom together?”

“She already knows,” Keith admitted.

“Really?” Shiro laughed, looking genuinely happy about it. “Did you tell her?”

“We had a lot of time to talk in the quantum abyss,” Keith said shyly, “and I missed you.”

Shiro’s smile turned fragile and sad. He stroked Keith’s cheek with his thumb, and just one more time, he kissed him in the hallway.

The days passed. How well, Lance couldn’t say, but they passed.

Shiro and Keith were glorious and sickening to behold, and Lance could hardly stand to be in the same room with them. They were obviously still so careful and tender with each other, with their loving, blissful smiles and their almost perpetually linked hands. Lance just wondered when the wedding would be.

God, Lance didn’t want to think about that. A wedding was inevitable.

And the recurring thought of Keith and Shiro pulling each other into bed, kisses growing more heated--

He didn’t know what blend of emotions that inspired in him, but it wasn’t comfortable. Mostly, he just wanted to cry. He was pathetic, but he didn’t know how else to feel.

Romelle had identified the Altean in the hostile mech as a woman named Luca. Allura’s report on their conversation with her was not an inspiring one: she had no trust for the people of Earth, specific hatred for the paladins, and nothing useful to share with them. Still, Luca was to remain on Earth in the Garrison in case she changed her mind and talked, as well as for her own safety. Luca would stay, but the Atlas would have to deploy. There were too many planets and systems waiting for Voltron to help, and the Coalition needed the paladins’ support. Lance was ashamed that Keith and Shiro had him so distracted when there was a whole universe to worry about. He resolved to focus on the missions.

It would be their last night before the launch, and Lance intended on spending it with his family. He had planned on going straight to them once the pre-launch briefing let out, but Keith intercepted him in the hall with a light tap on his arm.

"Can we talk?"

Keith looked so earnest, and Lance was almost sick. The awkward smile he pulled on was probably painful for both of them.

"Yeah, man, sure."

He followed Keith silently through the hall, and Keith led him onto a balcony where they could speak privately. It wasn’t even noon yet, and the Garrison still provided some shade from this angle, but the desert was bright and hot. Lance blinked and let his eyes adjust, and Keith leaned back against the railing, regarding Lance with a frown.

"Do you have a problem with me and Shiro?" 

Lance hadn't expected Keith to just come out and say it. He shook his head and stuttered the correct response.

"No! Not at all! I'm really happy for you guys."

"You haven't looked me in the eye for a week," Keith said, watching him with unmasked suspicion. "Is it because of Shiro?"

Lance felt himself go still. "What about Shiro?" Keith seemed determined to stare Lance down until he guessed. "Are you asking if I _ like _him?"

"Everyone likes him," Keith stated, a fact of life. "You know what I mean."

"What, are you jealous?" Lance scoffed, feeling besieged. His feelings for Shiro were none of Keith’s business, except that they _ were_.

"No. I have nothing to be jealous about," Keith answered evenly, and it was true. Shiro was already his. "I didn't pull you aside to be petty at you. What I mean to ask is…" He frowned and struggled with the words, and it was gratifying to finally see some shame on his face. Lance was the petty one there.

Then Keith asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Lance balked. "What?"

"Are you mad at me?" Keith repeated, brow furrowed in… Was that worry? Lance half expected him to start wringing his hands. Keith crossed his arms instead. "I just… I thought you and I were getting somewhere, and now you won't even look at me."

"We were getting somewhere?"

Lance had meant it in hopefulness, but all that came across was the surprise. He realized too late how it had sounded.

Keith looked like Lance had struck him. For just a moment, Lance wondered if he would cry. He felt it welling up in his own chest and throat. Then, Keith closed himself off and scowled.

"Whatever," Keith snapped. His arms dropped down to his sides. His fists curled tight, and he stormed away from the railing. "Forget it."

"Keith," Lance started, scrambling for an apology, but Keith went inside and shut the doors behind him.

Shiro found Keith in his Garrison quarters, shoving his few possessions into a duffel bag. He only had a few sets of clothes to his name, and his luggage didn't need to be punched into place to in order to fit. Shiro watched him from the doorway, feeling the heat of Keith's bad mood sting his skin, and asked quietly, "Baby, what are you doing?"

Keith stopped, sighed, and let his shoulders slump. He resumed packing at a more resigned pace.

"We're heading out tomorrow. Might as well sleep in the Atlas," Keith mumbled.

The two of them hadn't shared a bed yet, but the thought of needlessly sleeping in separate buildings made Shiro frown. It sounded like Keith's defense mechanism of isolating himself. He was avoiding something.

"Are you that eager to leave Earth?" Shiro asked him.

Keith shrugged. Shiro stepped into the room and put a hand on his shoulder, and Keith's tense muscles softened.

"Did something happen?" Shiro pressed gently.

"Lance."

Shiro rubbed Keith's shoulder with his thumb. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, and he still hates me. I think he hates me _ more _ now. What did I _ do _to him?" Keith asked, finally looking up at Shiro with his honest, heartbroken expression. Instead of anger, he was crushed by insecurity and frustration. Look close enough, and that was usually what Keith's anger meant.

"He doesn't hate you," Shiro promised. "Keith, I don't think he's ever hated you."

"He does. He always has. So this shouldn't bother me so much." Keith clenched his jaw, but when Shiro ushered him closer with a welcoming arm, Keith leaned into his chest. "I just… I thought we were doing okay lately."

They were, though, and it pained Shiro that Keith didn't see that. He rubbed Keith's back and gave him a safe place to feel bad, if that was what he needed.

"What happened?"

"I asked him why he's been avoiding us," Keith mumbled into Shiro's shirt. "He just kept dodging the question. Then he basically told me to go fuck myself."

"Did he say that?" Shiro asked darkly.

"No. No, he was just surprised that I thought we were friends."

That was even worse. Shiro sighed and hugged Keith tighter.

"The two of you _are _friends," Shiro assured him. "You've been through too much together not to be. I think you just have some trouble communicating with each other." Keith grunted, unconvinced. "Give it time, then talk to him again, okay?"

Keith nodded, cheek on Shiro's shoulder. "Okay."

There was a beat of silence. He felt that Keith was ready for a change of subject, so Shiro brought up his purpose in coming to see him.

"I brought you something," he said, a note more cheerful.

"You did?" Keith pulled back and looked up at him, and then finally at the gift slung over Shiro's forearm. He picked it up and unfolded the biker-style leather jacket. "Shiro," he said, grinning as he examined it. 

"It's our last night on Earth, right?" Shiro reminded him with a smile. "Bring your bag. Let's go somewhere."


	3. Home

Keith's new jacket fit him perfectly. When he pulled it on and held out his arms for inspection, Shiro looked him over with that little crooked smile.

"Looks good," Shiro said, tone only just low enough to make Keith's stomach swoop. 

They commandeered a couple of hoverbikes from the Garrison garage, and they took off.

The height of the day was on them. The goggles were familiar and necessary to protect their eyes as they cut through the dry, stinging air. Shiro wore casual clothes, with a brown leather jacket so much like the one he'd used to have. Keith followed at Shiro's side, bikes singing under them and miles of desert disappearing behind them.

For a moment, they were five years ago. They had taken these trips often as friends and had found any excuse for them, like whenever Shiro thought of a new maneuver to teach Keith, or to celebrate when Keith did well on a midterm. They had both had steam to blow off, and while both of them had been beholden to the Garrison, the races had helped them feel free.

It didn't become a race until Shiro threw a smirk at him and sped up. Keith grinned, felt his chest lifting, and slammed the hoverbike into its full potential.

There was no track to follow or goal to reach. The rules were intuitive: go fast and show off.

Keith cut ahead of him. They were in open desert with the canyons ahead, and they raced towards that more interesting terrain. Keith wasn't expecting Shiro to weave past him again so easily, but he laughed when he did.

It had always been a tragedy to Keith how people misunderstood Shiro. They saw his accomplishments and knew him rightly as intelligent, ambitious, and brave. It only took one conversation with him to be drawn in by his warmth and sincerity, and getting to know him better, Shiro was an endlessly kind, hardworking, profoundly admirable and honorable man. It was impossible not to love him. 

But few people knew Shiro's wild heart. He was a man of discipline and composure, and this made it so easy to overlook what his career meant to him: it was his calculated recklessness. As an astronaut, he tore through boundaries and charted new territory. He loved to fly because he detested limitations.

Shiro was always hungry for a sense of awe. He needed to be staggered by the breadth and beauty of the universe around him. He wanted to see and know and experience everything.

Keith had never met someone who was so in love with life.

Flying beside him, it struck Keith how much he had missed Shiro's excitement and rare cockiness. How long had it been since Shiro had smiled that wide? When was the last time Shiro had been allowed to have fun?

And maybe, _ finally_, Keith could make him break a sweat during a race.

He surged ahead. He had finally caught up to Shiro; they were both master pilots this time. His bike swept past Shiro's over the dry, cracked earth, making the sagebrush shiver and the dust fly behind him.

Shiro wouldn't be outdone. It wasn't just a matter of whose bike could go faster, but of control and balance, taking the right turns as their improvised paths curved and flirted. He kept pace with Keith, his face focused, his strong hands wrapped tightly on the handles. With a sideways glance at him, Keith decided that as much as he loved riding beside Shiro, he would have been just as happy sitting behind him, arms around his waist, thighs aligned together, just to feel the grace in his taut body as he flew.

Then Shiro took a deliberate turn into the canyons. Keith followed after him. It was a familiar route, one of their favorites. 

The sharp, perilous turns along the side of the cliffs demanded all of their focus and piloting skill to traverse. It used to be so nerve-wracking, but though Keith wasn’t cocky about the route, he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. The adrenaline in his system didn’t come from anxiety, but the thrill of riding just ahead of Shiro over the narrow path. When the ground widened underneath them, Shiro caught up and flew at his side.

Then the ground ended. The cliffs dropped into the canyons below.

This was where Shiro had shown Keith why both of them loved to fly.

Keith took the plunge with him. They drove off the cliff together. The earth disappeared under Keith's bike, and his insides rose up at the sudden sensation of being suspended a hundred feet above the next layer of ground. It was the moment before the fall, and then the fall rushed through him.

He knew the physics of the maneuver. He knew the timing intuitively; he felt it in his soaring heart and whipping through his hair. Keith felt the curve of the air, the shift from down to forward, and the lifting and sinking in his body as his momentum was redirected. He paired Shiro almost exactly; Shiro still made it look smoother. Then the cliff was behind them, and they swept over the ground and raced together through the canyon at the bottom.

They had the same idea. They began to slow, and once they had stopped, it was a race to see who could dismount his bike and throw off his goggles first. Keith ran to Shiro and threw his arms around him, adrenaline pulsing, blood singing, and took that chance on asking for his affection. Shiro accepted him without reservation, and he lifted him up by the waist in a swinging turn. Keith laughed and kissed him, and Shiro welcomed him.

Shiro set him down and took a couple of water bottles out of his bag. They sat down against one wall of the canyon to drink, and they watched the sky age and change colors from the cool shade.

"I missed this," Keith said.

"So did I." Shiro turned his head to look at him, and he set down his water bottle to slip his hand over Keith’s on his knee. Keith met his eyes and smiled.

"I think those were the happiest days of my life," Keith said, a realization and a confession. His smile widened. "Until now."

"Mine, too." Shiro’s fingers laced through Keith’s, fitting neatly over his knuckles. Keith spread his fingers to welcome him, and he watched in fascination as Shiro’s thumb stroked the back of his own. It was incredible how simply holding hands provided Keith with so much contentment. Shiro was the only one who had ever shown him this kind of casual affection, and Keith was always starving for more of it. "Those days had their own problems, but you… You turned into my best friend."

Best friend. What a sublime title. Elation bubbled up in Keith’s belly, and he turned his body to face Shiro and put a hand on his chest.

"Shiro," he murmured. He didn’t care how bare his heart must have been on his face. He didn’t have anything particular to say; he just wanted the simple closeness of saying Shiro’s name.

Shiro’s eyes lifted over his amused smile.

"Will you always call me Shiro?" he laughed lowly.

"I've always called you Shiro," Keith replied, smiling back. He knew what Shiro meant, but all of his favorite moments with Shiro in the past, he had called him by the same name. He would always be _ Shiro _to him. And yet Keith wanted that next step. He was starving for what he was inviting him to do.

Shiro studied his face, and the fondness in his eyes was enough to make Keith's cheeks flush.

"You can say my name, Keith."

Keith remembered the first time he had heard someone simply call him by his given name. The envy had burned him, knowing that he would never have that same intimacy with Shiro. But now he _ did_.

Keith took a deep breath, braced himself, and said it, quiet and reverent.

"Takashi."

He felt Shiro's heart thump under his palm. He watched the intensity of his eyes rising like thunderclouds. Keith slid his hand higher up his chest and along the side of his neck, then up higher to cradle his jaw. He wanted to shout his name, just to feel it in full force from his chest, but it came out even softer the second time. 

"Takashi," he whispered. 

His Takashi breathed Keith's name in return. He leaned closer, and Keith met his lips gently.

Lance was home with his family, and for that night, at least, nothing else mattered. The McClains had been provided with a small house in the recovering city, and they had transformed it into a real home. There was no art to put on the walls yet, nor any of their familiar furniture or living room centerpieces, but Lance's niece and nephew were playing a board game next to the new couch and his mom's cooking filled the house with the smells of garlic, lime, and spices. His brothers were by the door, engaged in an old friendly argument, and Lance slipped past them to get into the kitchen. 

As soon as he stepped in, his mom sent him a huge smile. Her smiles for him were still odd, tangled in something weary and perplexed, like she couldn't believe he had actually come home, and they were punctuated by something heartbroken, something not ready to see him leave again. But the smiles were real and warm, and they crinkled her eyes.

"Lancey, can you get the rice?" she asked him, and he was happy to fall into the familiar rhythm of cooking with his mom. He set the rice to cook in a pot on the stovetop and then moved onto better things. He diced a couple of onions and threw them into another pan with some garlic and butter, and while his mom handled the pork roast and the potatoes, he did the beans.

"I missed cooking," Lance realized aloud. He was happy that he hadn't forgotten the skill in the past few years. It was like riding a bike. He hadn't burned the onions, and they would be delicious in the black beans.

"What have you been eating all this time?" his mom asked.

"Nutritional goo. Or whatever Hunk cooked. The kitchen was pretty much his. He knew what to do with all the weird ingredients we found, but I was pretty lost." Lance tried to laugh and make it funny, but it wasn't.

His mom was quiet for a moment. She had lost a lot of weight during his time away. Lance couldn't bear to imagine her and the rest of their family moving between refugee hideouts, scavenging canned goods and MREs whenever they were lucky enough to eat.

And now they had familiar ingredients again, enough to make a whole meal. That was jarring by itself, but Lance had been well fed this whole time, and his family had nearly starved to death during the occupation. 

"I'm glad you had each other," his mom said then, quiet with sincerity. "They said three cadets had gone missing. Your whole team. I'm glad you took care of each other."

"Mostly, it was them taking care of me." Lance couldn't muster up his usual buffer of humor in the remark. He kept his eyes on the pan in front of him and stirred.

"I'm sorry," he said then, rough and weak.

"Lance, sweetie, don't start that again." His mom washed her hands in the sink and dried them, and he stood still when she stepped up to hug him. He left the wooden spoon in the pan and hugged her tightly. "Honey, it wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

"I should have been here," he whispered anyway, too hoarse to use his voice. His mother murmured something calming and sad, and when she rubbed his back, the sensory recognition of sheer comfort flared brightly enough to hurt. He would never grow out of wanting his mom to hold him. He sniffed and clung to her more tightly.

"You came back to us," his mom said. "You saved us. Don't ever be sorry."

"Lilia, what did you say to that poor boy?" Lance's grandma asked from the kitchen entrance. Lance raised his head and wiped his tears quickly. His mom squeezed his arms in support but gave him a half-step of space.

"Nothing, Mama," Lance's mother said gently.

His grandma walked with a cane, but she made good time across the kitchen. She reached up and touched his cheek, and he put on a smile for her while she scrutinized him, severe in the worry that came with love.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked, just the way she always had. Lance was used to answering that question with a scraped knee or a tale of Veronica antagonizing him. Not the fate of the entire universe. He shook his head, unwilling to burden her with the answer. She guessed it anyway. "You're worried about the whole world, aren't you?"

Lance's silence spoke for itself. His grandma clicked her tongue once.

"Well, my whole world is under this roof," she told him. "I'm having dinner with them tonight, and that makes me the happiest, luckiest lady on Earth. The only thing that could make me cry is if you burn our food."

_ The beans. _

Lance jumped, and she laughed loudly when he turned back to the stove.

Keith should have known Shiro's plans for their night out. They had packed overnight bags and driven into the desert. Where else was there to go but home? Once Keith recognized the route and found the vanishing fossil of the farm road under them, he smiled and sped past Shiro's hoverbike where he had been leading.

They had one more race that day, but when Keith made it first past the broken-down fence and into the yard, he couldn't be sure that Shiro hadn't let him win. When they dismounted, Shiro came straight to him and took his hand.

In the year after leaving the Garrison, Keith had cleaned up his childhood home. The shack had served as his base of operations for his scouting missions, and he had most often taken meals of cold, canned beans and fallen asleep on the thin couch there, but he had kept the main house maintained. It wouldn't have felt right to live in it alone.

It had been hard to walk back inside, but he and his mom had visited the house together just days before. They had cleaned it up together, loving and painstaking, and made sure the water and generator were working. It felt right to tend to the place, though neither of them had had the heart to stay.

It had been a pilgrimage to make, and a payment of respect to the family they both wished they could have been. Keith had begun to adjust to having his mother in his life, but his context for her had everything to do with fighting desperate battles and nothing to do with the creaky stairs or the weird sulfur taste in the kitchen water. The house didn't mean the same thing to her that it did to him.

But God, it mattered to her. She had begun to mention Keith's crib, which his father had built for him. She hadn't been able to finish the sentence, and Keith hadn't asked her to.

"Krolia said you'd come by," Shiro said. Keith laced their fingers together in a silent answer. "She suggested taking you here. I didn't want to intrude. Is it too much?"

"No," Keith said, studying the house, the symmetry of its windows and the stonework that complemented the wooden structure. "No. This is perfect."

Shiro let Keith make each step himself, and he stayed beside him, as steady and supportive as ever. It felt right to walk up the porch steps together. Keith set his hand on the doorknob, ushered a deep breath into his chest, and turned it.

He had seen the house only the other day, but stepping inside came with the same internal clash. This was the most familiar place on Earth to Keith, but time had made it strange and unrelatable. The rooms seemed uncanny and skewed, like he hadn't remembered the floorplan correctly in the time dividing him from his childhood. But the dust had been cleaned away. The air was clearer, not so stuffy. The lights worked. Keith worked the stiff muscle of recognition, and he made the effort to reacquaint himself with this house. The front door opened into the living room, and Keith walked forward and brushed his hand over the back of the couch. It had been covered with a sheet for years. The table had been, too, and everywhere else had been wiped down the other day. The mantle was clean, as was the staircase, the chairs, and every surface in the old kitchen. The place was just about livable.

"Want to open some windows?" Shiro suggested. Keith nodded. The afternoon was hot, but there was enough of a breeze that they could justify it. They unlatched the stiff windows and went through the entirety of the downstairs, giving the house another chance to air out. Once they finished up, Shiro asked if Keith was hungry. Upon receiving a definite yes, Shiro ducked into the kitchen and gave everything an extra cleaning pass. That done, he opened a small cooler he had brought in the cargo box of his bike. 

"What are you making?" Keith asked, looking past Shiro's arm to the food and clean utensils he was unpacking onto the counter.

"Spaghetti. One of the four things I know how to make," Shiro said with joking pride. Keith had seen Shiro cook--or try to--a couple of times before. No matter how it turned out, Keith would be happy to eat it, because Shiro had made it. He smiled and leaned against the counter next to him.

"What are the other three things?" Keith asked.

"Omelettes, mac and cheese, and coffee."

"Breakfast, lunch, and dinner," Keith said approvingly, and he smiled wider when that got a loud laugh out of Shiro. "Spaghetti sounds great." Shiro smiled back at him, and he leaned over for a quick kiss before getting to work with opening a couple of jars. "Can I help?"

"I’ve got this, baby. Make yourself at home."

Shiro had brought him home to make dinner for him. Keith reached out and traced his fingers up Shiro’s bicep and shoulder, just to ensure that he was really there and not sheerly something out of Keith’s fantasies. He left Shiro in peace then, and he ventured out of the kitchen to brave the abutting rooms more thoroughly.

The living room was brighter than he remembered it. His happy childhood memories of it had faded like an old photo, still fond and soft, but dull and unclear with the distance of time. His more recent recollections of it, of exiling himself in the shack and rarely venturing into the house, cast a shadow over the familiar rooms. He had known the house as a place he had formerly known.

His home didn't have to be a stranger anymore. 

There was a bed in the back of the house, in Keith's old room. Keith knew from experience that it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but he had washed the sheets the last time he was there, and he had spotted a blanket in Shiro's bag. Keith peeked at the bed through the door from the living room and felt his heart jump into his throat when a certain possibility occurred to him.

"Hey," he said over his shoulder, denying the tremor in his voice. "By chance, are we, um… gonna sleep here?"

"If you want to," Shiro replied, like it was just that simple. "We can always go back to town. Or you can take the bed and I can take the couch. Or…"

"Or?" Keith wanted or.

"Or," Shiro suggested, still stirring the pan without looking up, "we could share the bed. I just… I'd like to sleep next to you. If you want tha--"

"_Yes,_" Keith blurted out, and something about that made Shiro look up and laugh.

"Yes?"

"Yes," Keith said, hoping that he wasn't buzzing too noticeably. "I want that."

Shiro smiled at him from across the kitchen and living room. It was a hot day, but the air conditioner was working and the house was bright. Shiro's jacket was on the back of a chair, and he was standing in Keith's kitchen in a grey t-shirt and the yellow sunlight from the old, thin curtains.

Keith crossed the space and kissed him.

Shiro bowed his head to meet him. His lips parted easily, soft and shapely, and Keith tasted him at their own pace.

Shiro jumped and hissed. His hand leapt away from the stovetop where it must have drifted, and the motion caused their foreheads to bonk together and Keith to spring back. His palm stung, but he knew the pain wasn't native to him.

"Shiro," Keith began fussing immediately, and he took Shiro's hand to check the end of his palm for a burn. "Do we have ice?"

"Yeah, I brought some," Shiro laughed. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. It doesn’t sting or anything."

He fixed Shiro with a frown, but Shiro raised his eyebrows in patient amusement.

He knew Shiro wasn’t thin-skinned. He knew Shiro could handle a little pain now and then, and he didn’t need to be fussed over. But Shiro was his soulmate, and that threw pain into a sharp new context. Each slight against Shiro’s comfort was Keith’s responsibility.

"I didn’t get more fragile overnight," Shiro promised gently. "Are we going to be those soulmates who try to helicopter each other?"

Keith chuckled wryly and looked to the floor. Shiro was right; they had always trusted each other to handle what they were faced with. That didn’t stop him from wanting to soften the whole universe to make it handle Shiro more gently, but it curbed the impulse a little bit.

"No," he relented, smiling. "That’s not us."

"Good. I wouldn’t want it to be." Shiro kissed the top of Keith’s head, and he turned half of his attention back to the saucepan. "Want garlic bread? That's the fifth thing I can make."

The table was big enough to fit all of them, and when the last of them made it to the table to sit down and eat, there was a moment where no one spoke. No one smiled. The McClains sat and looked at each other.

The house smelled like familiar food. The sensory kick in the face, something recognizable and homey after the context of living in an alien environment for well over a year, was paired with the fact that Lance hadn’t eaten dinner with his family since he had left for the Garrison. He wasn't quite used to this particular ache in his chest, feeling so happy that it made him sad.

"Well," his mom said, breaking the silence with a brave smile. "This is better, isn’t it?"

She sparked a handful of other smiles down the table. Everyone mumbled something in relief or agreement, and they began to pass around the food and make conversation.

"When will you be back?" Sylvio asked Lance from directly across the table. 

"Why do you have to go, too?" Nadia asked Veronica.

Lance glanced at his sister. Veronica furrowed her brow and pursed her lips.

"We’ll be back as soon as we can," Lance promised. "And we’ll be able to call you and say hi, even when we’re all the way out there."

"And I _ have _ to go," Veronica replied, finding a breezy smile. "We can’t send Lance out by himself, right? I’ve got to keep him in line."

At the end of the table, Lance’s mom sighed. It was just a second of weakness, just a flash of pain across her face, and then she was smiling at them again.

"I’m glad you’ll be looking after each other," she said. "Promise you’ll call us as often as you can, okay? I know you’ll be busy."

"You couldn't stop me from calling. I’ll sneak out of crew meetings if I have to," Lance vowed, and the table chuckled.

"I like your team, too," his mom continued. "The paladins seem like a good group. And Admiral Shirogane is an amazing man. Happy to be working with your hero?"

Lance bristled at the memory of his favorite poster from his old Garrison dorm. His smile jerked into place just in time, and he hoped his cheeks weren’t visibly red.

"Shiro’s amazing. He’s even cooler when you get to know him." He cleared his throat and tapped his fork on his plate once.

"He’s cool," Veronica allowed with a thin shrug, and Lance took that heretical understatement as a personal offense. "I wanna know more about that Keith guy."

"Nope," Lance bit out. "Hands to yourself."

Veronica laughed out loud and propped her chin up on her palm. "What, did you call dibs?"

Lance’s tongue weighed his mouth shut for a moment. When he opened it again, all that came out was an awkward choking sound.

"Oh my god," Veronica said, as if she had realized anything of substance.

"He and Shiro are together," Lance explained quickly. He had to cut off whatever speculation she was forming. "They’re soulmates. They just told us a week ago."

That garnered the usual reactions. Interested hums. How nice. Isn’t that lovely.

"They make quite a couple," his mom said, eyebrows raised.

"Yep." Lance kept his eyes on his salad, turning over the leaves with his fork. "Power duo of the millennium."

"That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?" Lisa remarked while she scooped more food onto her kids’ plates. "Finding your soulmate in the middle of all of this?"

"I like how we met better," Luis said to his wife, and it earned him a couple laughs. He and Lisa had met in their college library. Nice and quiet. Happy and personal. Soulmates with papercuts.

Most people didn’t need to be larger than life, like Keith and Shiro.

"So, Lance," his mom decided to prompt him. She had always seen right through him, not that Lance was particularly hard to read. "Meet anyone nice in outer space? Princess Allura is wonderful."

Lance laughed tightly. It occurred to him that he hadn’t taken a bite of food in too long, and everyone else was clearing their plate faster than him. He shrugged.

"She is. But… we’re not like that. I mean, I really— I liked her a lot, but she’s… We’re not like that. I get it."

This was answered with understanding nods. The questions stopped, and Lance was in the clear again.

It didn’t last. Pain sliced across his palm, sudden and white-hot. He dropped his fork with a clatter, and he yelped out one of Coran’s more interesting and vehement Altean curses.

"Lance?" several of his family members asked at once. His father had stood up, startled, and Veronica reached beside him to take his wrist and check his hand. There was no injury to be found, but he could practically hear Shiro’s name in the soft, worried voice Keith reserved just for him. He knew intuitively that somewhere, Keith was looking after him.

Lance jerked his hand back and tucked it under his arm, folding himself down tightly.

"It’s fine," he stammered. "It’s fine."

No one needed to ask. His grandmother uttered sadly, "Oh, Lance."

"It’s not Allura," he felt the humiliating need to clarify. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Lance—"

"Please. Please, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to eat dinner with you guys."

Lance sounded as pathetic as he felt, and that must have been what convinced his family to relent.

It was the best spaghetti Keith had ever had.

Keith had never been on a date before, and he couldn’t think of one he would prefer to this: driving home with Shiro, eating a homecooked meal, cleaning up the dishes together despite Shiro trying to do it himself, and then simply sitting on the porch and talking under a glittering black sky. Keith had fallen quiet again, and his fingers fidgeted between Shiro’s. He felt Shiro watching him, waiting patiently and pulling back his fingers to trace them across Keith’s palm.

"Something on your mind?" Shiro asked. Keith liked that he phrased it that way; an invitation instead of the more direct, ‘what are you thinking about.’ Keith took the invitation.

"I don’t know where to start," Keith admitted. He looked down to their hands, highlighted by the lamp in the window from inside the house, and curled his fingers just short of grasping Shiro’s. "I don’t know what this changes. Being with you. I’ve always loved you, but I never thought I would get to _ be _with you."

Shiro’s fingertips continued their small circuits along Keith’s skin, as if reaching out and touching was an easy thing.

"Do you want anything to change?" Shiro asked.

Keith didn’t know how to answer that. He chewed his lip, and with his right hand in Shiro’s, his left arm folded closer around himself. The night was earnest, and it was getting cold.

"I still feel the same way about you," Keith answered, speaking thoughtfully and deliberately. It was a strange balance to feel, laying out the facts at the same time he laid out his heart. "That won’t change. And we won’t get to do things that a normal couple does, not while we’re on the Atlas, and I don’t know if I’d know how to do those things anyway. Dates and stuff. So that probably won’t change. We’ll still go on missions, and we’ll still have jobs to do and people to take care of. That won’t change."

Beside him, Shiro nodded. Keith was grateful that Shiro didn’t dismiss the grim truths of their situation in the rosiness of the moment. Instead, Shiro sat quietly and considered it.

"Our situation is unusual," Shiro finally said, "but we're not the only soldiers with soulmates. Not by a longshot. We have jobs to do, but so has everyone who's ever been in love." He turned a gentle smile Keith's way. "We'll still be out there, as the Black Paladin and the Admiral of the Coalition, and it's going to be hard. But we'll make it work however we want it to."

"How do you want it to work?" Keith asked. His voice felt faint in the cold night, especially over such a vulnerable question. He was still coming to terms with the fact that Shiro wanted this too. They had a future together.

"For my part, I absolutely want to take you on dates now and again," Shiro warned him, smile crooked. Keith flushed at the very thought of Shiro wanting to romance him. "I want to kiss you whenever we want. So, a lot. And personally, I like the idea of everyone knowing I’m yours."

"I want that, too," Keith admitted quietly. He was Shiro’s. He always had been. The difference now was that everyone knew it, and he was proud for them to know. Shiro’s smile turned gentle, and he held Keith’s hand up against his chest. It was warm there, against Shiro’s shirt.

"So what’s going to change," Shiro murmured, as sweet as the starlight, "is that now, I get to do this."

He leaned in and kissed the corner of Keith's mouth. Keith grinned and turned his face to meet him, and their lips parted and pressed gently.

"And I get to tell you that I love you," Shiro continued, a whisper, "and be sure that you know what I mean." Keith nodded. It felt like poor timing, but his face felt hot and his eyes had started to fill. "Would that be okay? Can we make it work like that?" Keith nodded again. He didn’t try for words, but he kissed Shiro again and let that speak for him. Shiro held him close, as though Keith was worth keeping close, and kissed him on the porch step. It was a long, warm time before the kiss ended, and then Shiro kissed the arch of Keith’s cheekbone, too.

"And if you want," Shiro suggested, "we can go inside where it's warm and fall asleep together."

And so they went inside. Keith dressed down in the bedroom, and Shiro changed into a t-shirt and sweats in the hall bathroom. They brushed their teeth. Shiro washed his face, so Keith did, too. These were little things that Keith hoped would transform from a sleepover to a nightly ritual. He wanted to slip into bed with Shiro every night for the rest of his life.

Keith found a comfortable spot facing the middle of the bed, and he watched intently as Shiro leaned back, turned off the bedside lamp, and settled down facing Keith. Keith waited, holding his breath and soaking in the details. The room felt fuller and safer with Shiro in it. Their bodies weighed the mattress down in the right ways. Shiro was in his bed with him, warm and soft under the blankets, with his right shoulder facing down and his forearm resting somewhere behind Keith. The only light in the room came from the moon beyond the window, and Keith could see his handsome face perfectly.

"I've never shared a bed with someone before," Keith confessed softly into the space between them. Shiro smiled in the faint light.

"How is it?" he murmured.

"It's nice." Keith smiled back at him. He scooted closer until their noses touched. "It's really nice. I've never…"

Was Shiro waiting for him to make a move? All Keith knew was that he wanted a move to happen. They were finally alone, in a place he knew as home. Shiro loved him, just as Keith loved Shiro.

The experience of lying next to Shiro, facing him in the delicate darkness, outstripped years' worth of his longing imagination. He wanted to know what being closer to him felt like.

Keith slipped his hand down from Shiro's arm. He traced his fingertips over his chest, over the perfect curve of his pectoral, and barely suppressed a shiver of nervous excitement. Shiro gazed at Keith in curiosity with hooded eyes. Keith's hand trailed lower. He followed Shiro's ribs and stomach, moving over the creases of his shirt and feeling the shape of his muscles underneath.

"I've never done this before," Keith whispered. He stopped his fingers at Shiro's lower belly, and he waited for some sign to continue.

Instead, Shiro took Keith's hand and brought it back up to rest on the bed between them.

"Keith, that's not why I brought you out here," Shiro said quietly. "We don't have to rush anything. Honestly, all I was hoping for was some cuddling."

"Oh." A flush of embarrassment and something like rejection crept up Keith's neck. "Do you not want to?" he asked, trying to be sensitive to Shiro's needs.

Shiro took a moment and sighed. He brushed his lips over Keith's and whispered, "God, I want to."

Keith shivered then. Shiro wanted him. He had never dared to hope for this, but he had wished for it for so long. Shiro was in his bed, wanting him and sharing body heat with him. Keith threaded their fingers together.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked. Shiro turned his face away and took another second to answer.

"It's your first time, and it's been a long time for me," he admitted.

"Are you nervous?" Keith asked.

"A little."

Keith smiled and stroked Shiro's knuckles. "Me too. It's okay. We can take our time."

Shiro let out a soft laugh, as if he should have been the one comforting Keith instead of the other way around. He closed back in to give Keith a kiss, and Keith hummed quietly and sank into it.

"Can I just kiss you for a while?" Keith whispered when they parted. Shiro answered with a smile, and then he rolled Keith onto his back and kissed him into the pillows.

_Lance was in the desert._

_ It wasn’t any specific time of day, the way dreams often worked. It was just daytime. It wasn’t hot, but bright and dusty. To his right, a sheer rock wall stretched up beyond his ability to see. In front of him, the ground cut off and looked down into a canyon. He walked to the edge of the cliff, awed by the view. Colors burst on the jigsaw horizon. _

_ "Not yet," Keith’s voice said behind him. _

_ Lance wheeled around. His wide eyes weren’t stung by the brightness of the sun, but he couldn’t see past the daylight. Someone reached out from the brightness and took his hand, holding him back from the dropoff into the canyon. _

_ Shiro’s voice was quiet and apologetic: "Wait." _

Lance thrashed awake in a sweat. He kicked away the blankets, sat up, and gasped dry atmosphere. His eyes darted from one dark side of the room to the other.

He was in his own bedroom, or at least, the bedroom meant to be his in his family's new home. His real room had been lost with the Castle. His old room had been lost in the siege on Earth. Did he have a room anymore?

His new room was a spartan bunk on the Atlas. He hadn't even slept in it yet.

He clapped his hands over his cheeks a couple of times. He stood up, left his bed unmade, and paced to the window. He couldn't see the canyons from there, but he knew they were out there under the stars, waiting. He shut the curtains and crept out of his bedroom door.

Lance took halting steps down the stairs, uneasy about the creaking house, unsure of his goal, and unwilling to go back to bed with his mind still racing. He walked on his toes and tried to keep as quiet as he could, and he didn't turn on any lights, but followed the railing with his hand. It wasn't total darkness, though; there was moonlight in the windows, and the kitchen light was already on.

There was no point in being unsociable, and a glass of water seemed like a solid plan. Lance pushed a hand through his hair and took a glance into the kitchen. His mom was there, pouring steaming water from the electric kettle into a mug.

This house was too new for the floorboards to creak so much. Nevertheless, a plank squeaked under his foot, and he cleared his throat to punctuate it. She jumped, look back at him, and smiled.

"Oh, hi, Lancey. Did you need some tea? We’ve got chamomile vanilla."

Lance wasn’t generally a tea person, but it was his last night on Earth. He could have a cup of tea with his mom. He smiled and picked a plain mug out of the cabinet.

"Sure. Thanks."

Lance had to douse his tea in sugar and cream to disguise the hot water taste. His mom drank it as-is.

"All that sugar’s going to keep you up," his mom warned, as was her job. Lance laughed under his breath. It didn’t really work like that for him anymore, but he wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. "Why _ are _you up?"

He stirred his tea, spoon clinking softly in the mug. He had never been able to lie to her.

More than that, he didn’t have anyone else he could tell the truth to. He might have told Hunk, if anyone, but Hunk couldn’t lie to save Lance’s life, even to keep a secret like this. His mom had always let him know that he could tell her anything. He took a deep breath and set down his tea without taking a sip.

"Can't people get like, hysterical soulsigns?" Lance asked. "I mean, just imagining signs that aren't really there?" His mom frowned, her shoulders and attention angled toward him, and she set her mug on the counter.

"That happens on rare occasions, yes," was her tentative reply. "Why do you ask?"

"I…" Lance's lips opened and shut twice. What was he supposed to do? Tell his mom who his… _ imagined _soulmates were? She would see them at the launch tomorrow. He would have to make eye contact with them.

"What if," he said instead, walking his words on a beam, "you _ know _someone can't be your soulmate. Like, of all people, they aren't it. They hate you, or they're just… okay with you, and they're in love with someone else, and that's who you're getting signs for. They'd have to be fake signs, right?"

His mom studied him with more heartbreak in her eyes than he'd ever seen.

"Are you in love with this person?" she asked.

Lance was silent for a long time. He looked down to the tile.

To be in love with someone. That was a hard thing to define.

He wasn’t completely naive. Love wasn’t what infatuation promised it to be. Love was hard. Love was disappointing, even as Lance still considered it sacred.

But love was honest. Love was good.

"I don't know when it happened," he whispered.

"Oh, honey," his mom uttered. She stepped in and pulled him into a hug, and he bowed his head to rest his cheek on her hair. Like any self-respecting loser, Lance sniffed and blinked away the beginnings of tears. He listened to her warm caramel voice and worked to memorize how she rubbed his back, like he was still five years old. It would be a long time before he had this again.

She said, "My mom always says, 'people aren't mirrors.' You're almost never going to have the exact same feelings at the exact same time. But that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there, or that they're not growing. Love is work, but it's such happy work."

"I'm not happy," Lance mumbled. "They'll never love me back, Mom."

"Lance, you will _ always _be loved."

He knew that he would. His mom would always love him. She was his mom, and she _ had _to love him, but that didn’t make it anything but more precious. His family would always love him, and he would always love them. And Lance had so many friends who had become essential to him. He would be surrounded by love and warmth his whole life.

It was just that he had kind of looked forward to falling in love and getting married, too. Knowing he had soulmates out there, he didn’t think he could do that with someone else.

"Soulmates don’t always work out," Lance muttered.

"Sure," his mom allowed. "I don’t know any cases like that really well, but I guess they happen. But you? You’re Lance. You’re my sweet, kind, clever, strong, funny, _ wonderful _ boy. So whoever you’re talking about very well better get their act together, because they are a _ very _lucky person."

Lance laughed weakly. She was supposed to say all of that, but it still felt sweet to hear.

"I’ll be okay, Mom." He brought one hand up to wipe his eyes, still leaning into her. "It’ll be fine."

"You’re right," she said decisively. "Make sure you remember that." They held onto each other for a moment, silent, simply holding on. "I missed you so much," she whispered miserably. "And I'm going to miss you while you're away. I already miss you again."

Lance sniffed and nodded. "I missed you, too. More than anything."

"We won't be able to talk very much while you're away," she continued. "But I want you to promise me that you’ll call when you can. Remember that you can talk to me about anything, this included."

"I will," Lance promised. "I’ll keep you updated on Lance’s Exciting Adventures in Not Dating Anyone."

His mom laughed dryly and shook her head. When she pulled back from the hug to look at him, she lifted one eyebrow.

"When you get back," she said, "you’re bringing this person over for dinner."

No way in hell. Lance smiled and said his best, "We’ll see."

_ Shiro had been in the dark for so long. The horizon felt uneven at times, like he could tip over where he stood and never find his feet again. There was no true north, no up or down. Just stars, both true and false, and an unreachable line in the distance that cut the universe in half. _

_ He counted the stars again. He measured them and found them to be inconsistent. _

_ He recited his name. He recited the events of his life. He recited the names of everyone he knew. He gave himself games and exercises, recounting history and mathematical theorems and the top to bottom components of a rocket engine. _

_ Keith grounded him more than anything else. _

_ His soulmate was out there alone while Shiro waited in purgatory, disembodied and unable to protect him. _

_ He had felt Keith in the Black Lion. He had been so proud of him. Shiro had felt closest to him then, like Keith was embracing him each time he stepped into the cockpit. He did his best to guide him through Black, to reassure him, especially when Keith's loneliness and despair put out the stars in Shiro's sky. _

_ Then Keith had disappeared. Shiro still felt his pain, the only physical sensation in his sleepless, infinite cell, but Keith was far from Black. Instead, Shiro felt a shadow of himself like a sickness. Black had the wrong paladin. _

_ Shiro resisted him until he had to bite the bullet. Black needed to move, and he couldn't do it himself. _

_ The sickness grew. Shiro found it harder to focus, feeling his own thoughts echo in the wrong ways. This paladin was wrong. He was misled and dangerous. _

_ It took them an eternity to reach him. _

_ He heard their voices. He didn't feel them, but _ heard _ them. He would speak to himself in the void just to remind himself what sound tasted like, but he hadn't heard another voice in lifetimes. _

_ He recognized them. He wanted to weep. The paladins were calling for him, needing him, and he answered. _

_ Keith wasn't there. The others were outlines of themselves, and they couldn't hear him calling to them. He had to warn them about his double. _

_ Lance, though. Lance was clear. _

_ Lance, the Red Paladin, close to Keith's heart and his. _

_ "Lance," Shiro called. Lance's eyes found him in the dark. They tethered him where he needed to be and, just for an instant, gave him his true north. Shiro wished he could reach out to him, but just as quickly as Lance had appeared, he began to fall away. "Lance, listen to me," he begged. _

_ Lance called back to him in confusion. His voice was sweet, and Shiro wished he could bottle it and save it. Just one comfort to help him stay sane. _

_ Then Lance vanished, and darkness stole the stars.  
_

Keith woke with tears in his eyes. He blinked at the far wall of the bedroom in the dark. Behind him, Shiro breathed gently against the back of his neck and stirred. His arm lay around Keith's waist, and he searched for his hand to hold it. Keith took it and squeezed.

"Hey," Shiro whispered. "You okay?"

Keith sniffed and nodded. Shiro's thumb ran across his knuckles.

"Had a dream about you," Keith whispered back. "When you were… You were alone. You were so alone."

"Keith…" Shiro held him closer and kissed his hair. "It's okay. We're here now. We both made it."

Barely. Keith had lost Shiro so many times. He had nearly lost him forever. And tomorrow, they were going to launch and try to get killed all over again. He shifted and turned over to face him.

Shiro was there in the dark with him. He looked sleepy, but he was waking up just to look back at Keith and smile for him. Keith brought his hand up between them, and his fingertips traced Shiro’s bottom lip. Shiro kissed them.

"We’re launching tomorrow," Keith mumbled.

"Yeah," Shiro agreed quietly. "We are." Keith struggled with where that left him, but Shiro found him with honesty. "We’ll be together. We’ll face everything together."

Keith nodded. He passed his fingertips over Shiro’s jaw, over the barely-there prickle of his stubble, and then he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss it.

"Whatever happens," Keith started, but Shiro shook his head.

"Keith, whatever happens, we’re coming back here."

Keith swallowed and nodded again. Shiro didn’t make empty promises. Shiro smiled and leaned in to kiss Keith’s forehead, and he whispered sweet little nothings as Keith nestled against his chest. He fell back to sleep, and he dreamed peacefully.


End file.
